


Every stroke of luck has gotta bleed through

by kimabutch (CWoodP)



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Gen, Siblings, also brief allusion to Ed's family being bad in an unspecified way, also yknow actual family, and a few allusions to Hawaa (their mother) being emotionally neglectful, set just after RQG 152, three hurt/comforts for the price of one!!!, very brief allusion to Saleh Sr being a horrible father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:34:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23788657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CWoodP/pseuds/kimabutch
Summary: The aftermath of Hamid and Ishak's call in the al-Tahan household.
Relationships: Ishak al-Tahan & Edward Keystone, Ishak al-Tahan & Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan, Ishak al-Tahan & Ismail al-Tahan, Ismail al-Tahan & Saira al-Tahan, Saira al-Tahan & Edward Keystone
Comments: 88
Kudos: 101





	1. Ishak

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for RQG 152! Title is from You’re Somebody Else by flora cash.

“I’ve got to go now, Ishak, thank you for letting me know everyone’s okay,” Hamid says, his voice tinny through the warm stone in Ishak’s hand. 

“No, wait, wait, you’ve got to tell me how to do the lights thing!” Ishak says.

“No, I’ve got to go,” Hamid says in that firm-older-brother tone Ishak hates. 

“No, you can’t, Ismail won’t won’t tell me anything and —” Ishak starts, but he can already feel the stone growing cold and Hamid’s voice is gone as quickly as it came. He stares at it for a moment, not quite sure what just happened, and then cautiously peers under the door of the hall cupboard he’d snuck into when he heard the stone calling his name. Satisfied that no one’s around, he carefully pushes it open.

He finds Ismail in their room, tongue poking out the side of his mouth as he concentrates on aiming a finger gun at a vase on the bookshelf. As Ishak comes in, Ismail says something and the spell goes off, a shot of green energy bursting from his fingertips and shattering the vase. 

“Hey ‘shak,” Ismail says, walking towards the bookshelf. 

Ishak picks his jaw up from the floor, closes the door, and runs up to his brother. “Hey, hey, guess what?” He drops his voice to a whisper. “Hamid called me!”

Ismail isn’t nearly as excited as Ishak expected. He raises both his eyebrows. “How?” 

“On my stone!” Ishak says, pulling it out. “You know, the one Einstein gave me in Rome? It’s well hard to get working, I can’t figure it out, but Hamid must have finally got it going! He asked about everyone and said he’d been doing adventures but he’s not a zombie and he had to go but he told me to tell you to teach me magic!”

“Mhm? C’mon, I thought you were better at lying than that,” Ismail says. 

“No, really! It got all hot and Hamid’s voice came in and he talked to me!”

“Sure,” Ismail says, picking up the vase shards. “I’m still not teaching you how to do Dancing Lights, though.” 

“No fair! Hamid said —”

“Hamid’s gone. He’s off trying to…” Ismail’s face screws up as he tries to remember what Saira told him. “He’s off helping people. He doesn’t care if I teach you magic or not.” Ishak starts to protest, but Ismail cuts him off again. “Now go away, I’ve gotta practice Mending.” 

“Fine! But he _did_ call, you know!” Ishak says and storms out, slamming the door behind him. He cringes for a moment before remembering that Father’s not here to complain about the noise, and then stomps his way through the hallway in frustration, trying to figure out what to do next. He could tell Mother, but she gets upset when he talks about Hamid too much. He could tell Saira, but she’s so busy and, well — no one’s actually told him he’s not supposed to use the mobile stone, but it feels like something Saira wouldn’t like. 

Instead, he finds himself wandering into the back garden, where Ed’s doing his morning prayers in the sun. When he hears Ishak coming, he gives his big, golden smile and stands up. 

“Oh, hello, Ishak!” Ed says. “Did you want another game of hide-’n’-seek? ‘Cept you gotta tell Ismail he can’t use magic this time, your mother was _well_ mad about the bushes.”

“No, it’s okay,” Ishak says. “It’s just — can I tell you a secret? You can’t tell anyone.”

“Aw, wicked, I love secrets!” Ed says. “But not if they’re about doing something bad, then they’re wrong. The Cult of Apollo, they got loads of secrets that they teach you when you become a paladin.”

“It’s nothing bad, I don’t think. We-ell, _I_ didn’t do anything bad. It’s just that Hamid called me on that stone that Einstein gave me.”

“Oh, nice!” Ed says. “I haven’t got mine to do anything. What’d he say?”

“He just asked about you and everyone and talked about magic and said he was okay and then one of his friends who isn’t a zombie told him he had to go. But then… I told Ismail that Hamid called and Ismail said I was lying and that Hamid didn’t care about us. But I wasn’t lying and he does care, he called and he said he was happy to hear we were okay, and —” 

Ishak can feel tears welling up in his eyes and tries to blink them back. He’s not a kid anymore, he can’t cry about things like this. Ed, though, doesn’t seem to mind and before Ishak can say anything, he’s picked him up in a big hug. He’s more than twice Ishak’s size and a billion times stronger, but he’s gentle and comfortable, enveloping him completely in his arms, and Ishak can’t help but cry harder. 

“There, there,” Ed says in his warm, sincere voice. “I don’t know much, but I know it’s hard when your family doesn’t believe you. Hamid cares about you, though. You shoulda seen him in Rome. He couldn’t stop talking about how much he wanted you back.” 

“Really?” Ishak sniffs.

“I’m a paladin, I can’t lie. Apollo said so.” 

Ishak smiles through his tears, and hugs Ed back, his arms around Ed’s neck. They stay there a moment, holding each other in comfortable silence. Finally, Ishak whispers, “can you not tell Ismail I cried? Only cause, he always calls me a baby when I cry.” 

“‘Course,” Ed says. “But there’s nothing wrong with crying. I’m big and strong and I cry loads when I’m sad.” 

“Thanks, Ed. You’re the best.”


	2. Ismail

Ismail hears the door slam behind him and, after a moment, Ishak storm away from the room. Ismail huffs in anger. It’s all he can do to keep his hands from turning into claws.

Ishak had to be lying, right? He’s been complaining since he got back that Ismail won’t teach him magic, and now all of a sudden, Hamid just calls him. If Hamid’s been able to do that the whole time, why’d he wait two weeks to call? And why hadn’t Hamid asked to speak to him, too? Sure, Ishak had the stone or whatever, but he’d talked to Ishak just a few weeks ago and he hasn’t seen Ismail in over a year. It just doesn’t make sense. He’s got to be lying. 

Ismail steadies his mind and instead focuses on the vase shards in his hands. With the motions and words his tutor taught him, he channels his magic into the broken vase and watches with satisfaction as the vase repairs itself, white energy glowing along the cracks and bringing the pieces together. It feels so good and _right_ that for a split second, Ismail wants to run after Ishak and show him how to do it, to watch his brother’s eyes light up when he figures it out. For them to share their magic, just like they used to.

But no, he thinks as he puts the vase back on the shelf, ‘cause that’s what Ishak doesn’t understand. It’s not _their_ magic anymore. It’s _his_ magic, the one thing he had for himself when Ishak left and everything went wrong, and he doesn’t want to give it away. ‘Specially not to someone who lies. 

He backs up into the furthest corner of the room, points at the vase, and again watches his Magic Missile fly through the air and shatter it. His moment of silent satisfaction is broken when he hears a shout from outside the window. He glances out to see Ed down in the garden, throwing and catching Ishak, his brother shouting with happiness and excitement. Half of him wants to join them, find out how high Ed can throw both of them at the same time — but the other half says that’s silly kid stuff. He’s grown up now. Ishak’s still a baby, 18 months younger. He can still play like that. 

The thought makes him angry, jealous in a way he can’t explain, and Ismail has to concentrate for even longer this time to Mend the vase. He slams it back on the shelf in frustration, nearly breaking it just with his hands, and backs up again. He’s all out of Missiles now, but he doesn’t want his practice to end, so instead he pulls up his Mage Hand, picking up the vase and spinning it around in the air before letting it fall to the ground and shatter. The cracking of the glass feels good, like the vase is feeling some tiny part of Ismail’s frustration, and as he drops and Mends it over and over again, he pours all his anger into its shattering. 

For him having to stay all alone when Mother wouldn’t stop crying and Saira was locked in her office — _crash_. 

For the world being broken and everyone turning into zombies and no one telling him how or why — _crash_. 

For Ishak not having to do any of it and spending time with Hamid and coming back with a new friend — _crash_.

For — 

“Ismail?” 

He turns around, still holding up the vase with his Mage Hand, to see Saira pushing the door open. 

“Sorry for barging in, I just heard a — are you okay?” Saira says, her face etched with worry, and Ismail suddenly realizes that there are tears running down his face. 

“I was just, uh, just practicing —” Ismail starts to say, but Saira’s already come in, closing the door behind her and walking towards him. He puts the vase back on the shelf, trying not to look at her. 

“What happened?” she says softly. 

Ismail takes a deep breath to stop his crying. “I was practicing magic and ‘shak came in and…” Despite everything, he doesn’t want to get Ishak in trouble for lying, or for having the stone if he’s not supposed to. “And he wanted to learn magic but I said no and he was angry.” 

“Is that all?” Saira says, taking one of his hands and squeezing it. “You’ve done that before and you don’t usually do… this.” She gestures vaguely at the vase, still unshattered. “What did he say?”

“He said…” Ismail sighs. He’s no good at lying to Saira. “He said that Hamid called him on his stone.” 

“He _what_? What stone?”

“He got a mobile stone when he was in Rome, from —” he racks his brain for the name “— from the professor. He said he could talk to other people but he couldn’t make it work, and I think it’s just rubbish but — he came in and said the stone got hot and Hamid talked to him and told him to tell me to teach him magic.” He pauses, watching Saira’s brows furrowing with confusion. “Please don’t be mad at him. It was just a dumb trick, he didn’t mean for —”

“What else did Hamid say?” Saira says. 

“What?”

“When he was calling Ishak, what did he say?”

“I — I don’t know,” Ismail says, surprised. “Ishak said Hamid said he was okay and not a zombie, and he talked about his adventures and asked how everyone was. And also about magic. But I don’t think it was true.”

Saira makes a frustrated sound. “Einstein!” she says to herself. “He should really know not to be giving his mobile stones away like that. Hamid doesn’t even know the danger.” 

Ismail can feel tears welling up in his eyes again. “Hamid _did_ call?” he says, his voice quivering with guilt. 

“Hey, hey,” Saira says, pulling him into a hug. “It was just a mistake.”

He’s crying now, crying full-on like he’s a kid. “I told him — I said he was lying,” Ismail says between sobs, voice muffled by Saira’s shoulder. “I said Hamid doesn’t care about his magic.”

“You didn’t know,” Saira says. She rubs his back, just like she used to when he was young. “It’s okay. You can talk to him, he’ll understand.”

Ismail hugs her tighter, trying to believe her comforting words. “Why didn’t Hamid want to talk to me?” 

“I don’t know,” she says. “We’ll ask Ishak if he knows anything else, and maybe we can try to send him a message through Cairo, okay?”

Ismail nods and tries to sniff back tears. “I miss him,” he says quietly. 

“Oh, Ismail.” Saira pulls away, cupping his cheek in her hand. “I miss him, too. Every day.” She rubs away his tears with her thumb. “One day, we’ll all be together again.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” 


	3. Saira

It’s not a perfect fix, Saira thinks as she watches Ishak and Ismail in the garden, but it’s a start. It had taken Ed and her nearly ten minutes to clear up the miscommunication and get every detail of Hamid’s call from Ishak, but they’d managed it smoothly enough and now, by way of apology, Ismail’s finally teaching Ishak Dancing Lights. 

From the back porch, Saira can see Ismail standing over his “little” brother, guiding his hands in the proper movement and only _occasionally_ snapping when Ishak gets it wrong. Ishak, for his part, seems to be doing fairly well, though is struggling to maintain and control the lights after he creates them. Hamid had had the same problem when he was first learning the spell. He’d shown it to her on his last visit home from school before his expulsion, so happy to have finally produced the magic he’d been studying for a year — but every time he cast his lights, they’d veer out of range and blink out. Saira had still been so proud, though, still hugged him and told him he should show Aziza the next time they were all together. The memory’s bittersweet now, but Saira still smiles.

Oh, Hamid. She has to believe it was him on that stone, not only because she can’t stand the thought of the alternative, but also because it seems like an utterly useless call were it someone — or something — impersonating him for the purposes of a security breach. Still, it was foolish of him, foolish in that particular headstrong way that Hamid gets sometimes, and enabled by Einstein’s affectionate thoughtlessness. From what Ishak had said, Hamid is already getting a dressing-down on his side for it, and Saira knows she’ll probably get the same when she reports it back to Cairo. 

Even so, the knowledge that Hamid’s out there, safe and with friends, makes her heart rise to her throat. Part of her still can’t believe he’s alive. She doesn’t think she really will until she sees him in person. Until she hugs him again, holds him like she always has, and tells him everything will be alright enough times that she also believes it. 

One day. He’ll come home one day. 

“They’re good kids.” Ed’s voice comes from above her, and she looks up — and up again — to see him standing beside her on the porch, smiling brightly. She’d never have thought it possible that he could catch her unawares, but then again, before two weeks ago, she’d never have thought she’d be living with a descendent of Richard Plantagenet. 

“They are,” Saira says, looking over to where Ishak’s now making his lights appear under Ismail’s armpits. “Thanks for taking care of him earlier.” 

“It’s no problem, really,” Ed says. “It’s my job. That and smiting evil-doers. I’m _well_ good at that.” 

“So I’ve heard,” Saira says with a smile. She can’t help but like Ed and his gentle sincerity. He reminds her of Hamid’s friends from school, but if their pretences of kindness had been genuine. 

And he never demands conversation when comfortable silence will do just as well, so Saira watches the boys quietly with him for several minutes, enjoying the warmth of his presence until the guilt of idleness weighs down her heart. 

“I should tell my mother,” Saira says quietly, unsure whether she dreads the task more than the unending paperwork that she’ll return to afterwards. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Oh!” Ed says before she can turn around. He looks almost nervous, and not for the first time, Saira wonders if he worries about her judging him. “I forgot to ask. Would you like a hug?”

The question takes her off-guard, but one look in his bright blue eyes tells her it’s a genuine offer for her to take or refuse. She stares at him for a second, wondering when last someone had hugged _her_ , not the other way around. “I’d love a hug,” she says finally. 

Ed doesn’t pick her up like he does with the boys, but rather gets down on one knee — still taller than her, though by less — and places his arms gently around her. His grip is soft, protective, and all-encompassing, and he smells like the garden on a warm day. For one moment, Saira feels a weight taken off of her, as if in this hug, she’s not expected to be anything but herself. As if she’s allowed to be sheltered. And then it’s over, and the world is still there, but maybe it’s a little easier, just for now. 

“Thanks, Ed,” she says and, without thinking, reaches up to ruffle his hair, just like she would with her brothers. She pulls back, mortified, but he’s smiling from ear to ear. 

“Anytime,” he says. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know I keep adding chapters. I think this is truly the last, though. Thanks to everyone who's allowed me to rant at them throughout, particularly the Red String Brigade.


End file.
